


What a Catch, Patrick

by Gosarah15



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bromance, Cutting, Depression, Fall Out Boy Lyrics, M/M, Pete Wentz's Suicide Attempt (Best Buy Incident), Pete and Patrick (Fall Out Boy), Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:10:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gosarah15/pseuds/Gosarah15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is dealing with a lot of crap and Pete's really fricking worried about him...</p><p> </p><p>Ok, so I was writing this thing for English (yes, I actually wrote a fan fiction for my class) and I was just like "why not post it and see if it's any good?"<br/>So yeah, I tried writing something.<br/>I swear to god this is really bad, since I only spent a few hours on it total, but I did start writing another one, a longer one that I'll post eventually... But for now you get this, erm, THING...</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Catch, Patrick

**Author's Note:**

> It has a lot of vocabulary words from class, and I might change it later, but for now it's stuck like this... Sorry :3

(POV: Pete)  
I inspected Patrick’s face the best I could. The expression plastered on his face wasn't even close to real. By now he should've already known that I could tell when he was lying just by inspecting his facial expressions closely. It was painfully clear that he was lying through his teeth.

“Are you sure you're okay?” I asked again, this time a little slower and a little quieter.

He nodded quickly, the smile he wore on his face grew a little bit more. _Fake_.

I shrugged, “Well, fine. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Patrick straightened the grey fedora on his head and darted from my house. Once he left, I sighed in exasperation. I hated when he did this to me. The only time I ever got this irritated was when he lied to me. I had told myself that other people weren't meant to be trusted, but my best friend was the only exception to that rule. My hands curled into fists as I tried my best to calm myself down.

He never hides his feelings like this from me. I was known for being reticent about my feelings, but not Patrick. He was usually an open book, always speaking his mind, encouraging Andy, Joe and I to do the same… But now he was so shy about his thoughts and feelings.

I was sure Patrick was hiding something from me, something very important.

 

 

(POV: Patrick)  
I rushed home as soon as I managed to escape Pete’s numerous questions, usually followed by a short but easily noticeable worried look. He had held me back a whole hour after band practice had ended, concerned by my countless facetious remarks, which he seemed to have taken seriously. It took me forever to convince him that I wasn't actually depressed or suicidal, and that everything I had said was merely a joke.

I had to look him straight in the eyes and tell him that I wasn't depressed or suicidal. I had to tell him that I wasn't harming myself, that I wasn't starving myself. I had to lie to my best friend. I had to tell him what he needed to hear so he wouldn't worry. Because he didn't need to worry about me.

I set down my guitar by the front door and made my way to the bathroom for a shower. It was a dreaded part of my day, as I knew that it would give me time to think. Time for the voices in my head to tell me that I didn't matter. I yanked off my shirt and looked into the mirror, my face quickly fell when I saw my reflection.

“Ugly, fat, unwanted, stupid…” My words dripped with poison as I whispered them to the short man staring back at me.

I was full of indignation as I thought about how my friends looked compared to myself. Everyone was unfairly thin and good looking without even trying. They ate as much as they wanted while I had to hide the fact that I was skipping two meals a day from all of them. _Not fair, not fair, not fair._

I sighed as I stepped into the shower, making a mental note to skip lunch as well as breakfast and dinner the following day.

 

 

(POV: Pete)  
Insomnia was getting the best of me as I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. As cars passed by my house, my room would illuminate slightly and then quickly fade back into darkness. I turned onto my side to check the time. The bright digital numbers read “2:30”. _Great_.

My mind slowly drifted from trying to sleep to Patrick. The worry I had been feeling for him was ineffable. Seriously, I had tried to tell Andy about my worry for Patrick, but no words could describe how I was feeling. In the four years I knew him, he had never acted like this.

The day I met him marked an epoch in musical history. It was one of the most important days not just for our band and our fans, but for me, especially. It was the day I met my best friend. I can remember it as if it was yesterday…

_I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. I was at a house I had never been to, the house of Joe’s friend, and possibly the drummer for the band I was trying to put together. As I waited for the door to open, I quickly yanked out my phone to check my hair and eyeliner. I was the quintessential emo kid that the boys teased and the girls fawned over. My hair was overly straightened, the side-fringe nearly covering one of my eyes. My eyes were completely surrounded by thick and messily done eyeliner and the only color I ever wore was black. Like I said before, I was the ideal example of emo._

_Before I knew it, the door opened and a short, ginger-blonde kid wearing a fedora opened the door. He didn't look any older than seventeen, and the glasses seemed to emphasize his eyes._

_He smiled shyly and spoke so quietly I could barely hear him, and I was standing mere inches away from him. “You must be Pete, I’m Patrick. Please, come in.”_

_Smiling awkwardly, I stepped through the doorway, brushing against the small man slightly, noticing how he flinched at the touch. Walking through the building, a neat house painted white, I noticed how nervous the kid looked as he stared at me. It took me a while to remember what Joe had told me: “He looks up to you,” he said, “don't scare him.” To my friends and I, I was just a music nerd, but to him, I was a venerable musician. I didn't believe that I deserved the respect I received from him, but, apparently, my experience in other bands (that nobody barely remembered) made me someone worth admiring in his book._

_We walked down to the basement where I was immediately taken aback by the plethora of instruments scattered around the room. A mix of string, brass, and wind instruments rested across the couch, stood against furniture, and lay on the floor. The drum kit sat in the corner and Joe stood beside it, tuning his own guitar as he waited for everyone to show, which was only me._

_“Okay, show me what you got,” I said, yawning a little, still tired (and slightly hungover) from last night._

_The small kid nodded slightly, adjusted his fedora, which suited him slightly, and began to play. I must say, he was good, but his nerves got in the way, and he didn't seem to play to his full potential. By the end, I could tell that Patrick wasn't entirely satisfied with his performance either. His natural ebullience seemed to have disappeared as he stood up from his drums. The overwhelming energy that had once filled this kid completely dissolved by the time I finally spoke._

_“Well-” I was immediately cut off by Patrick, who looked like he was on the bridge of tears, and was trying his best to hide it. “I swear I can do better. Please, let me try again.”_

_Joe and I exchanged looks, his eyes urging me to say something. “Erm, I think we're good.”_

_Patrick’s face fell, and, unable to see the kid look so sad, I added, “Hey, can you sing?”_

_His slight frown dissolved into a grin. “I can try, at least. What song?”_

It had been a fortunate stroke of serendipity that had allowed us to meet. If Joe hadn't recommended Patrick as our drummer, we wouldn't have met the lead singer of our band, my best friend.

I quickly drifted off to sleep, the sound of Patrick’s mellifluous voice ringing in my ears. His singing had always seemed to calm my nerves, as it was so soothing that all my troubles just seemed to disappear.

 

 

(POV: Patrick, fast-forward to the tour)  
I stood on the roof of the hotel, the sun illuminating the area below me. It was mid-summer, and, other than the petrichor, there wasn't a trace of evidence that it had rained at all. Rain had been scarce this season and, whenever it did rain, the water dried up immediately, leaving behind only the faint smell of it.

As I peered over the edge, I couldn't help but think about jumping. I look at the scene below me and see a whole world better off without me in it. _I'm just a few steps away from eternal happiness…_

 

 

(POV: Pete)  
I dashed up the stairs that led to the rooftop. I thought I finally knew what was going on with Patrick, and, if I was right, I knew he would be up there. He would be considering doing something horrible.

_Please, hold on a little longer, Patrick. Hold on for me._

 

 

(POV: Patrick)  
I took another step closer to the edge. The longer I stood watching over the scenery below, the more tempted I was to just end it all. I longed for the halcyon days of my youth, when everything seemed happy in the world, when I had felt wanted by others. Now, I was merely in the way of everybody’s dreams.

I took another step. Eternal bliss awaited me below. All the weight was finally going to be lifted from my shoulders and I would be happy forever in the afterlife, well, if there was one. My toes met with the very end of the building, the pavement below calling to me. Soon, everybody can be happy. Soon, they won't have to deal with me. As I was about to take my final step, I felt a firm hand wrap around my wrist and pull me away from the ledge. I spun around, furious. It was Pete.

“What were you about to do?!” He was screaming directly into my face, his eyes desperately fought to find mine.

“I-I-I don't know.” Tears threatened to fall, and I tried my best to blink them away.

“You were gonna jump, weren't you?” I felt his hands grab my face. “Look at me when you answer!” My eyes met his and I winced at the sight. He was crying. Iridescent tears were falling from his eyes onto his grey hoodie, shining all different kinds of colors as they fell, but quickly disappeared as they soaked into the fabric.

I stared at the ground for a moment before meeting his eyes again and replying in a whisper.

“No.”

“Stop lying to me!” Pete quickly shouted.

“What are you talking about?” I cringed as I said those words, he had seen right through me.

“Cut the crap. It's not like I haven't noticed that you skipped meals, or how you would gaze at the gun mantled on my wall. Not to mention the cuts on your arm!” Tears were falling faster from my friend’s eyes. I could feel my heart shattering with every word. A small burning sensation ran along my left arm, tracing the fresh lines from the previous day.

“I'm sorry… I just thought-” I was cut off again.

“You just what? Thought that we didn't care? That you didn't fucking matter?” I looked away again, tears finally sliding down my own cheeks.

Pete sighed, “Please tell me you remember what happened two years ago.”

I flinched. Of course I remember. How could I forget? I recalled images of Pete sprawled on the floor, an empty bottle of pills in his grip. I could still remember the months that he spent in the hospital, even the smell of the room he was stuck in, the smell of latex and dust filling my nostrils.

“You see,” Pete continued, wiping tears away, his voice had already evened out, “I thought the same things you are right now. And we all know what happened. It made me realize that in times of adversity, friends show their true colors. If that *ahem* unfortunate event had happened two years previous, nobody would have been there to help me through that dark time in my life. It was only my luck that you really care about me, because without you, I wouldn't be alive right now.”

I stared, awestruck. He never expressed his true feelings unless through his writing. Pete’s songs had always revealed his thoughts, some too dark to even be put into a song, but whenever I read them, I would always feel as if someone finally understood me.

“Patrick, you need to remember that people care about you. Joe needs you, Andy needs you… And I, I don't think I would even be able to live without you.” Pete looked at me with puppy-dog eyes, as if he was waiting for me to tell him I was convinced not to take my life… And he was right, I no longer felt that taking my life was the answer. I nodded slightly, and Pete’s face lit up with satisfaction.

“Come on, we should talk inside.”

 

 

(POV: Pete, fast-forward a month)  
Patrick was finally back to his old self. He was genuinely happy all the time, not any of that fake happiness that he used to get away with. Of course, there were those days in which one of us wouldn't feel so happy with life, but we managed to help each other through it nonetheless. All those scary thoughts we once acknowledged and actually believed were replaced with thoughts of our supportive friends and family. Though we knew that eventually the band would go through some tough times, I knew that the friendship that we had between the four of us would stay secure through it all.

The four of us collected on the couch, we were trying our best to stay awake while we talked and laughed. I was pretty concentrated on the song that was being written in my head. The words were still trying their best to arrange themselves into comprehensible sentences, but I knew something was hiding deep in my brain. As the conversations around me continued as I got up abruptly and rushed to find something to write with. _Pen, pencil, sharpie, eyeliner, anything_. I needed to get the words out on paper before it disappeared back into my subconscious.

Grabbing a pen and the back of a receipt, I quickly scribbled out the words. They just needed to be said. I just needed this to be there to always assure Patrick that I was going to be there for him. That I knew what he had gone through and how I was never going to let that happen again. He just needed to know how much I cared.

 _I got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match… What a catch_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is merely a cute bromance, but I wrote one in which it's a real romance, just be patient. Also, if there's another story you'd like to read, comment it below and I'll try my best to do something with it.  
> Thanks for reading! :3  
> And, yes, I do know when the song was written and everything like that, I'm not stupid. I just thought it would be cute if Pete wrote the song for Patrick...


End file.
